


I'd Like to Meet His Tailor

by thereweregiants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Clothing Porn, Halloween, Holidays, M/M, how am I not surprised that exists as a tag already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereweregiants/pseuds/thereweregiants
Summary: All Jesse wanted in the first place was to get a cup of coffee, but now he's covered in pins and fabric and Gabe is spending a lot of recreational time staring at him.





	I'd Like to Meet His Tailor

**Author's Note:**

> 'tis the season and all
> 
> wrote this *cough* many moons ago and meant to post it on Halloween 1st but hey ended up remembering about it eventually  
> pure nonsense and an ode to memories of everyone using everyone else as models back in college  
> costumes are based off of the [comic](http://comic.playoverwatch.com/issues/overwatch/9/en-us/pdf/comic-overwatch-junkenstein.pdf) and not the skins, because the guy's gotta have some time to run a black ops group
> 
> title from Warren Zevon's [Werewolves of London](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lh0w01S7Jnk), one of my least favorite Zevon songs, but seasonally and sartorially appropriate (though it does have one of my fave alliterative lyrics ever: "little old lady got mutilated late last night". just say it out loud, isn't it delicious?)  
> soundtrack to writing was mostly Schubert's Unfinished

“Come on, Hades, just one!”

“I apologize, Commander Reyes. All ballistic dummies are needed for the simulations that Overwatch will be running for program fidelity over the next few weeks.”

“What about the CPR training models?”

“Doctor Ziegler has informed me that the next time one of her medical models is taken for non-training purposes, she will subject the entirety of Overwatch to a series of experimental vaccinations.”

“But if _I_ requested it, for...special training purposes?”

“In this instance her medical authority supersedes yours, Commander.”

Jesse was paused in the doorway, amused at seeing Gabe argue with thin air as he tried to cajole Blackwatch’s AI system into giving him...a dummy?

“Dare I ask why you’re tryin’ to badger poor Hades into givin’ you a training dummy?”

Gabe spun, a look of annoyance on his face when he saw Jesse. “It doesn’t matter. It only matters that _someone_ is ignoring my authority right now.” He glared at the ceiling. It was hard to get into fights with a bodiless voice when there wasn’t even a screen to look at.

“I am not ignoring your authority, Commander Reyes, merely acknowledging that in certain situations there are authorities other than yours.”

“In the end it means that you’re not listening to me, so my point stands.”

A beam of light came out of the closest security camera and moved up and down Gabe’s body. Before either man could ask what was happening, another beam scanned Jesse.

“A possible solution to your dilemma, Commander,” Hades said in his unchangingly patient voice. “Blackwatch records indicate that you and Agent McCree share 92% body similarity. Recent scans indicate this may be closer to 90%, perhaps due to Agent McCree’s lack of time in training facilities.”

“Hey! My body is perfectly fine, I train all the time! And stop stickin’ your lasers where they don’t belong!” Jesse exclaimed, unable to stop himself from crossing his arms over his chest. He looked to Gabe expecting support, but instead was met with a speculative, almost predatory look. Gabe began to circle Jesse with a measured stride, and Jesse was caught halfway between wanting to turn so he could keep Gabe in his eyeline and somehow crossing his arms over his whole body.

“Reyes. Boss. You’re making me nervous.” Gabe had come full circle and was now gazing at Jesse with a thoughtful look, hand stroking his goatee the way it did when he was working something through in his head.

“Boss?”

“Jesse.” The purr in Gabe’s voice made something low in Jesse’s gut tighten, as at the same time a sweat borne of fear sprung up on his neck. “How would you like me to owe you a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

Gabe shrugged easily. “Yet to be determined.”

“Not soundin’ convincing. What do you want.”

“Your body.” At Jesse’s flat look, Gabe smirked and elaborated. “I need a human form, and as you just heard, a certain AI who may be _scrap_ soon won’t give me any of the ones that we own.”

“Why?”

Gabe finally, thankfully, now looked less like he was about to eat him alive and more like he wanted to skip past this point in the conversation. “Uh. Well. Even if you don’t want to do this, will you agree not to say anything to the rest of the team?”

“Do you want a pinky swear? I can pinky swear. Fareeha taught me how.”

“No, asshole.” Gabe pulled his beanie down, a nervous move that Jesse had never seen before from him. “It’s for...Halloween.”

Oh. _Oh._ “You mean, your costume?” Gabe had legendary Halloween costumes every year, obviously bespoke and with great attention to detail, but he had always refused to say how or where he got them.

“Yeah. I’ve always used this one manikin but I made the mistake of lending it to Winston a few months ago, and well. He tried something that didn’t quite work out.” Both men winced at the memories of some of Winston’s previous experiments.

“Wait, back up. You actually make your costumes? Yourself?”

“...Yes? I thought you all knew that.”

“ _No_ , we didn’t know that! Genji was threatenin’ to put a tracker on you to figure out where you were getting them from!”

“Well, surprise.” Gabe looked at Jesse with what might be called pleading eyes out of anyone who wasn’t more than six feet of muscles and scars. “Could I use you as a design form? With the materials I use I can’t do it flat, I have to have something three-dimensional to mold everything to.”

It was now Jesse’s turn to cast a measuring eye at Gabe. “And in return you owe me a favor.”

“Yeah, sure, we can talk about -”

“I want you to make me a costume.” At Gabe’s raised eyebrows, he continued. “It doesn’t have to be one of the crazy elaborate ones you do for yourself, but that’s my price. I want an official, Reyes-made costume.”

Gabe was scratching through his beard again, considering. “I could do that. You might have to make some supply runs for me, though.”

“Done.” They shook hands.

“Meet me in the fourth floor corridor by the weapons storage at ten tonight.” Gabe pointed a warning finger. “Don’t be late. Wear something close-fitting.”

“Yessir.” Jesse finally grabbed the mug of coffee he’d come in for originally, as Reyes strode off down the hallway.

Well, this would be interesting.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jesse walked down the hallway later that evening. He was rarely up here, the area used primarily for storage. He saw a partially-closed door, that given the lack of labelling he’d previously assumed led to some kind of closet. Seeing light spilling into the hallway, he nudged the door open, only to have his jaw drop open in awe.

The room was far, far larger than it looked from the outside, though appearing deceptively narrow from the shelves that lined it. The shelves were full of...things. Bolts of cloth, rolls of leather, stacks and stacks of boxes containing every type of thread and fabric imaginable. Large clear containers with what looked like scrap metal, fighting for space with bottles of worryingly unlabeled liquids and sets of tools. Machines of all types, only a few of which Jesse recognized. It was only when he moved that Jesse could pick Gabe out from all the organized chaos.

“Welcome to my lair.”

“What... _is_ all of this?”

Gabe shrugged. “My workshop. We all have our hobbies.”

Jesse had always had a distinct gap in his knowledge when it came to how Gabe spent his personal time. He never went out after missions with the rest of the team, citing professionalism and his inability to get drunk thanks to SEP. Everyone had their ways of dealing with downtime - Genji did calligraphy, Angela embroidered, Moira did her strange experiments that no one wanted to think too hard about. Jesse had always assumed that Gabe was doing something with Jack, or...he didn’t know, maybe just stared at the wall and thought of new and exciting things to do with shotguns. This, though. This was something else.

“This can’t all be for your Halloween costumes.”

“God, no. I’ve made a bunch of things over the years that I’m sure you’ve seen. Jack’s leather jacket, most of Ana’s uniform. I help Torbjörn out a lot with the non-tech components of things, non-standard parts of uniforms. I made your hat.”

“My...hat?” Jesse couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and touching the brim.

“Not that one, obviously, but your uniform one. Was a bitch to try and get the bulletproof mesh into the sweatband, let me tell you. That shit did not want to stay put.”

Jesse held out a hand to pause Gabe’s speech, and leaned against a box of leather straps. He needed a moment to take this in. His Blackwatch uniform hat was practically a part of him. It had been shot, stabbed, crushed, and saturated all types of unspeakable things. It was broken in perfectly, long ago having conformed to Jesse’s head to a point where it would never properly fit anyone else. And Gabriel Reyes, his boss, Blackwatch Commander, had _made_ it? For _him_?

“So every time it gets damaged…”

“I fix it up. I like fixing things. Though you really should take better care of your uniform, your gear gets damaged as much as any two other agents combined.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh. Means you’re doing your job.”

Jesse levered himself up and started to wander through the room, touching this and poking that as he went. “So what do you need from me, right now?” He flipped an enormous pair of scissors around like he would spin a gun.

“First you need to put those down before you put someone’s eye out. Then pretty much the only thing I’ll need you for a while for is measurements.”

“I thought Hades said we were whatever percentage body match. Can’t you just measure yourself?”

“First off, it was 92%, and we’re built differently - I need to know exactly how. I can’t make a pair of pants that fits you and then it’s two inches too short on me, I need to make it correct. Also, it’s difficult to measure yourself accurately. You’ll be helping me with that later.”

“So I’m assistant as well as dressing doll. Okay.”

“You want that custom-made costume or what?’

“Fine, whatever. Where do you want me?”

“Over there.” Gabe waved to a small circular platform tucked in along the back wall. The corner it was in had been lined with mirrors, and lights shone down on it. Gabe moved a small standing manikin that looked suspiciously similar to Ana to the side, and gestured for Jesse to get up on it.

“Please tell me you have something on underneath,” Gabe said, looking disapprovingly at Jesse’s loose sweats.

“Yeah, yeah, I can follow orders.” Jesse toed out of his shoes then pulled off his t-shirt and sweatpants, revealing his uniform undershirt and the compression tights they would wear under their gear in cold weather. It was nothing Gabe hadn’t seen before and indeed wore himself all the time, but on the platform under the lights and mirrors, Jesse felt exposed.

Gabe had a pencil tucked behind his ear as he opened a notebook full of mysterious scrawl. He pulled a well-worn tape measure out of a pocket, and started to write something down. “Stand there and don’t move. I apologise in advance for touching you.”

Jesse stood still as Gabe seemed to measure everything about him and then some. The breadth of his shoulders, the distance from neck to shoulder, the distance around his arms in about five different places, the distance around his neck, chest, waist. When Gabe knelt on the floor and started to whip the tape around Jesse’s legs, he determinedly looked at the ceiling and thought of the most unarousing things he could. Baseball. Cuddling with a cactus. Torbjörn shirtless.

He had made sure to wear two pairs of his tightest underwear, not knowing what was coming but aware that it would probably involve Gabe touching him. Gabriel Reyes had been Jesse’s own personal eye candy for over a decade now, but part of the appeal was that it was never real. _Could_ never be real, thanks to their positions and how little contact he had with Gabe outside of Blackwatch. He knew Gabe so very well on a professional level - knew how he would react to the unknown, how he would analyze something, how he showed affection to his team. Having moved smoothly into his right hand position several years ago, they could anticipate each other without talking about it. But he didn’t know the personal - his favorite movies, what music he listened to, where he grew up. He knew Gabe, but he didn’t know Gabe. And he kind of wanted to keep it that way, because he was afraid his little crush might get a whole lot less little with more information.

Jesse jumped, nearly falling off the platform as his thoughts were disrupted by a hand suddenly on his inner thigh. “Jesus! Warn a man, boss!”

“Stop being so twitchy. Here, you hold that end if it makes you uncomfortable. High, where the inseam of tight pants would start.” Jesse snugged the metal end of the tape measure to his crotch, pressing in on himself and ordering his body to behave. It was a difficult order to obey, when he looked in the mirror and watched himself with his hand on his dick and Gabe at his feet, arms stretching the tape measure down his leg. Jesse gave his inner thigh a vicious pinch until his eye watered from the pain.

Gabe measured the other side, before wrapping the tape around his thighs. Jesse didn’t know that was a thing for him, but apparently it was. He took deep calming breaths, focusing on the expansion and contraction of his ribs as the tape slithered around his ass and pubic bone, Gabe holding it together at the side of his hip before marking down numbers.

He started to shift from foot to foot out of boredom, as Gabe just stood there and wrote. “Not that this isn’t fascinatin’, boss, but do you still need me?”

Holding up a finger, Gabe wrote a final few things. “Yes, if you can just get a few measurements for me. I can do most of my body okay, but my arms and shoulders I can’t do.”

Jesse pulled his t-shirt and pants back on, unwilling to stand there in only the tight clothing any longer than necessary. When he turned around, Gabe was shirtless, still writing away. He held out the tape measure to Jesse. Jesse took it, wiping sweaty hands on his pants. “What do I need to do?”

“A lot of what I did with you - shoulders, arms, neck. If you try and measure yourself your muscles bunch, giving you inaccurate readings.” Gabe turned around, presenting Jesse with his broad, muscled back. Jesse noted the scars that scattered it, able to put name to many of them with recollections of the injuries. Here was a sniper shot through his side, there was a slice from broken glass, over there was what looked almost like claw marks from an omnic with some unfortunate upgrades. Jesse had almost identical marks from the same machine on his hip. He must have been looking for too long, as he saw Gabe’s head turn. “McCree?”

“Yeah, okay. So from shoulder to shoulder?”

“Yes. Go from here -” Gabe tapped a place at where a shoulder seam might be, “to here.” He tapped the other side, right next to a mole. Jesse stretched the tape out and dutifully read the number. He did the same up and down Gabe’s upper body - wrapping around biceps, forearms, wrists. To his uncomfortable surprise, Jesse found himself far more turned on by him touching Gabe than by Gabe touching him. Gabe wasn’t a demonstrably physical person, but did dole out backslaps and half-hugs as needed. There was always a line, though - Gabe would hug you. You would certainly not hug Gabe. And now Jesse found himself with his hands all over his bare upper body, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Jesse stepped back after going from the inside of Gabe’s armpit to his wrist, needing some space from the warm musky smell of his sweat. “Anything else, boss?”

“Just my neck. A loose measurement and a tighter one.”

Jesse stepped in close, looping the tape around Gabe’s neck. He had the sudden urge to pull on it, pull Gabe those final few inches closer. Instead he asked through a dry mouth how tight it should be.

“Like the collar of a shirt,” Gabe said, faintly coffee-scented breath puffing against Jesse’s face. Jesse loosely held the metal measure end to the body of the tape, reading off the number.

“Then tighter, right around the middle.” Jesse wrapped the tape higher, closer, the flexible material moving as Gabe spoke.

“Tighter,” Gabe said quietly. Jesse obliged, the tape pressing into Gabe’s skin, stark white plastic against the dark tan.  Jesse noted the number, but kept the tape there for a moment longer. Gabe started to swallow then stopped, throat flexing just above where the tape was. It wasn’t strong material, he could have easily swallowed past it...but he didn’t. They stood there for just a few seconds more until Jesse let go of the tape’s end, stepping back.

Jesse recited the number then stepped down off the platform. He could see the ruddiness of his cheeks in the surrounding mirrors, and felt the distinct need to be somewhere, anywhere else.

“Anything else, boss?”

Gabe shook his head as he flipped through his notebook, as calm as if they were in the situation room. “I’ll just be designing for awhile. I’ll let you know when I need you again.”

Jesse nodded, then fled. He paused outside the workshop door to take a few steadying breaths before walking back to his quarters like he hadn’t just spent the past half hour with his hands all over his commander. And if his thoughts that night drifted to broad shoulders and a hand on a throat while he stripped his cock roughly in the shower, well, no one had to know.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Work continued - training new recruits, missions, the occasional night off. Jesse found himself watching Gabe, trying to see where he went after meetings or in the evenings. The man was nearly a ghost - he seemed to exist nowhere but in common areas, Black- and Overwatch training facilities, and the offices. He said nothing about their deal to Jesse - he was starting to wonder if he had hallucinated the whole thing. Jesse went up to the fourth floor corridor one evening when he knew Gabe was out on a mission and tried the storage room door, but it was locked tight. It appeared to be a physical lock as opposed to the usual electronic or biometric ones, so he debated trying to pick it before nervously wondering if Gabe had the area under surveillance.

With all of the psyching out that Jesse was doing to himself, he found himself surprised to get an appointment added to his calendar for a late Friday night meeting with Gabe. Location: fourth floor.

There were no instructions but Jesse figured he should probably wear the same thing as last time. Once again there was light flowing around the edges of the slightly open door, a small river of warmth in the dark, cool corridor. He pulled open the door, walking into the comforting smells of leather and fabric and something faintly spicy.

Gabe’s head was barely visible, hunched over a drafting table that was nearly hidden behind bolts of black fabric that Jesse was fairly sure was part of their uniforms. At the sound of the door shutting Gabe looked up, gesturing for Jesse to come in with a wave of a pencil. Jesse found a chair, moving a box of enormous bobbins off of it before pulling it up to the table.

Jesse was going to ask what Gabe needed of him, but was distracted by the scratch of pencil over the various papers Gabe had scattered around the desk. He knew that Gabe could draw - he often designed their missions as they talked through them, representing buildings, weapons, and agents with fast, efficient strokes. It wasn’t what one would think of as artistic, necessarily - more like an architect would work, for quick representation of information.

This was much the same, though for clothing instead of blueprints. Jesse watched as shapes came together before his eyes. A jagged cloak, with enormous raised neck, belted at the upper chest. Details of some kind of spaulders, that from the highlights would likely be made out of metal. Similar designs were echoed on the boots and vambraces. And topping it all off…

“Is that a ...pumpkin head?”

“Going for a headless horseman type of thing.”

“Actual pumpkin or fake?”

Gabe sat back at that, thinking. “Fake would be easier, wouldn’t have to worry about it spoiling.”

“Could use it for decorations next year, too.”

Gabe made a sound of agreement at that, pencil scratching once more.

“See, aren’t you glad I got involved in this? Where would you be without me?”

“In a much quieter room.”

“Hah. Seriously, boss. Not that I’m not enjoyin’ watching you work, but why am I here?”

Gabe set his work aside and pulled over a bin filled with black fabric. “You’re going to try these on.” He walked over to the platform, turning on the lights as he went. Jesse followed, pulling off his t-shirt to reveal the tight shirt underneath. Gabe nodded in approval when he saw.

Jesse stood in the middle of the dias, taking what looked like a long sleeved black shirt off of the pile, and gingerly putting it on. It seemed like...well, honestly, like pretty much any other black shirt, but it was something that Gabe had made himself. That made it special, somehow.

Circling around him Gabe poked and tugged, referring often to his notebook. He had Jesse take off the shirt and put it back on inside out, making markings on the fabric with a white chalky pencil and pinning some things in place. He helped get it off of Jesse, gently tugging upwards so as not to rip the pins. They repeated the process for a bright orange button-up shirt or vest type of garment, and then some odd sock-like orange things that came up to Jesse’s thighs.

Gabe packed everything away carefully, making sure not to smudge any of the marks he made. Jesse was about to put his shirt back on when Gabe stopped him. He handed Jesse a cozy black turtleneck sweater. Jesse pulled it on, stroking over the sleeves. “This is really nice. Don’t tell me you knitted it yourself, too.”

Shaking his head, Gabe laughed a bit. “Not my thing. I’m glad you like it, it’ll be part of your costume.”

Jesse looked down at himself with more interest. “Really, now. What am I going to be?”

“I can’t tell you now, that’d ruin the fun.” Gabe handed Jesse a black vest, that split into two points at the waist. He circled around him, frowning. Jesse watched him in the mirror, seeing how focused he was on his work. On Jesse. On clothes he made by hand, for Jesse. He felt prickles trail from his neck down his back, a cool shiver of awareness at being so completely the subject of Gabe’s attention. He was almost relieved when it was over, Gabe motioning for him to take the garments off.

Gabe seemed to be done, packing everything away into containers. He turned to Jesse. “Do you have any leather boots, calf or knee-high?”

“Yeah, an old pair of black ones. Think they’re around somewhere. They’re pretty beat up, though.”

“Good, good. Bring them by my quarters at some point, I can fix them up. Easier than making them from scratch.”

“You...you don’t have to do that, I’m sure I could wear them as is.”

Gabe looked up from his organizing to fix Jesse with an unnervingly penetrating gaze. “If you are wearing one of my outfits, it is not going to be ruined by subpar footwear.” His words would be funny, except he used the same tone he did when informing captured prisoners that it was useless to try and escape. Jesse nodded meekly.

“So. Same time next week?”

“Probably more like a week and a half, but yes. I’ll let you know when. Bring those boots by soon.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jesse had stopped by Gabe’s quarters twice to drop off the boots, missing him both times. He finally just left them outside his door, messaging him that they were there. He got no message back, but the boots were gone the next time he looked.

A few nights later, there was a knock on his door. Jesse set aside the book he was reading - something Genji had recommended that he was trying futilely to get interested in - and levered himself up to go to the door. To his surprise, Gabe was there, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Do you have just a minute to try something on? I swear it won’t take long. Easier than you going four floors up for just five minutes.” Gabe was...he wouldn’t call it babbling, certainly, but he was less in control of his words than usual. Jesse realized that Gabe had never been to his quarters before, and was now asking to come in and have Jesse try things on. No wonder he felt awkward.

“Uh. Yeah, sure, come on in. Sorry about the clutter.” Despite what people might think of Jesse and his words just then, he was actually a fairly neat person with organized quarters. You couldn’t be an effective agent and live in squalor. Maybe there were flashbangs tucked in unexpected places and Peacekeeper was currently spread out on a cloth on his desk in pieces halfway through cleaning, but it was neat otherwise. Hopefully. In his opinion. God, it was like bringing a date home for the first time. This was ridiculous.

Jesse flipped the light switch, Gabe following him into the small kitchenette/living area. He set his bag down on the table, unzipping it to reveal more black fabric. As Jesse looked on curiously he pulled out a black hat. Something like Jesse’s uniform hat, though obviously not reinforced. The brim was broader, flatter, and the whole thing just looked a bit more delicate. Gabe handed it to Jesse, who set it on his head. Gabe poked and pulled at it a moment, until seemingly satisfied.

“Feel okay?”

“Sure. Not as sturdy as my usual, but this is just a costume.”

“Good, good.” Gabe took the hat back, and Jesse ran his fingers through his hair. Hand inside the bag, Gabe paused, then rooted around before pulling out a piece of brown leather.

“Do you have any pants that match this color?” He handed it to Jesse. Turning on the light on his desk, Jesse examined it.

“Maybe?” He went to his closet and opened it, flipping through hangers. “How do you tell when brown matches? It’s just...brown.”

With a sigh, Gabe rotated the light on the desk to shine into the closet, then shooed Jesse aside. He watched as Gabe went through his clothing with light touches, holding the piece of leather up. Jesse shifted, feeling odd at Gabe going through his clothes. He finally pulled out one pair of pants, holding them up to the scrap in the light.

“These look good.” He held them out to Jesse.

Jesse took one look and shook his head. “I haven’t worn those in years, and they weren’t flexible to begin with. They won’t fit.”

Gabe continued to hold them out. “The alternative is I make you pants, and that is annoying and unnecessary when we have these. Try them on, and I can see where I should let them out if necessary.”

Jesse eyed him skeptically, but took the pants. “My bet is I can’t even get them up, but I’ll try.” They were all brown leather, buttery soft and weathered perfectly. Jesse didn’t remember where he got them, but distinctly recalled wearing them whenever Genji dragged him out to some club or another because they made his ass look fantastic. That was five years and a lot of training ago, and Jesse had packed on quite a bit of muscle since then. Shaking them out, a small cloud of glitter fell. Mementos of a dumber, drunker time.

Stepping back into his bedroom, Jesse shucked his sweatpants and pulled up the brown leather pants. They got to the top of his thighs, just barely, and stopped. With some shimmying he got them pulled up, but there was no way he could get them buttoned and zipped. Jesse tried tucking himself in the best he could, but unless he lost some very important parts of his anatomy the zipper was staying down.

“Reyes, these aren’t fitting. Let me just -”

“Don’t take them off. Come here so I can see how I need to alter them.”

“...it’s, uh, not real appropriate-looking.”

“As long as you’re not going commando I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Oddly, Jesse felt like he’d be less exposed if he was naked. Wearing skin tight leather that split at his crotch, framing him...no one would ever call Jesse McCree prudish, but this felt lewd. Jesse shuffled out into the living area, unable to take full steps within the tight leather. He looked away in self-consciousness, only to see Gabe looking him over, reflected in the mirrored closet door. He watched Gabe glance at his face to see him turned away, then do a long slow head to toe scan, eyes lingering at his waist. Gabe shook himself slightly, then reach into a pocket for the ever-present tape measure.

“This will be quick. Sorry,” he murmured. He looped the tape quickly around the fullest parts of Jesse’s calf and thigh, before putting the end of the tape in Jesse’s hand.

“Hold that,” he ordered, before walking around Jesse and looping the tape measure around his waist. He threaded it around the waist of the pants like a belt, seeing how much room Jesse would need in order to actually fasten them.

Gabe turned away, rolling up the tape measure and writing numbers down in his ever-present notebook. “You can take those off, I’ll start work on them soon.”

Jesse lurched back into his room, having to peel the pants off inside out. Finally able to breathe, he pulled his comfortable sleep pants back on. He pulled the legs back out as he walked into the living area, folding them up and handing them to Gabe.

Packing everything back up, Gabe gave Jesse an awkward half-smile. “Thanks for letting me do this, I know it’s weird in your quarters.”

Jesse shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “It’s gettin’ me a costume, so no skin off my back.”

“Still.” Gabe nodded his thanks, before opening the door and exiting. Jesse remained where he stood, staring at the door pensively. He knew what he saw, Gabe looking him over when he thought Jesse wasn’t looking. That was...food for thought.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jesse sat on the couch in the lounge, and thought about moving. Their mission in Numbani had gone south quickly, ending with Jesse and Moira back-to-back and fighting off an enclosing circle of Talon agents. They had survived, but only after both of them had run out of ammo and biotics, Jesse planting several strategic grenades and taking down the building with them in it. They’d had just enough time to get under a load-bearing column, but falling debris on their way out had hit him viciously on his back and side. Moira used the last of her supplies to get him on his feet, but they were both limping pretty hard back to the Orca.

Jesse had collapsed on the couch in the early hours of the morning, intending to get up, eat something, and go to bed. Instead he had fallen asleep, and woken up hours later with a stiff neck and stiffer body. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Moira’s judgemental, odd-eyed gaze on him.

“You didn’t go see Angela like I told you to, did you?” she said in her light accent that made everything sound like sarcasm.

“I fell asleep.”

“And now you’ll be in even more pain.” She reached a spidery hand down. “Come on, get up before you can’t.” Her thin limbs held surprising strength, and between the two of them they got Jesse on his feet. Jesse was never quite sure how he felt about Moira. She was brilliant and intense, but he always got the feeling that she was playing a game with layers and they were only the uppermost one. He knew Gabe was helping her out with her work, in some capacity he refused to discuss. For now, she was a teammate. Trusted...to a point.

Moira handed him a small biotic emitter. “This is too weak to do much about your side, but it’ll help with the rest.” Jesse gave her a pained smile and a clap on the shoulder before stumbling off to his quarters.

He gingerly showered before collapsing into bed and turning the emitter on. He fell into a fitful sleep, dreams of drowning in a sea of rubble and wandering through endless ruined buildings. A klaxon was going off, and Jesse wandered the hallways of the dream-warehouse looking for it until consciousness asserted itself and he realized it was the sound of his tablet going off.

“ ‘Lo?” he said muzzily into the speaker after thumbing the call.

“Jesse? Did I wake you up?” Gabe’s voice, bringing Jesse closer to alertness just by his automatic expectation of being giving orders.

“Nah, I’m fine. What’s up?” Please, god, let it not be another mission. They usually had at least 24 hours recovery time after being injured...but Jesse never made it to medical so he wasn’t on the injury list. Damnit.

“Would you mind coming to the workshop? Wanted to get a couple of things on you.” At least it wasn’t a mission.

“Sure. Give me half an hour to get around.”

Jesse stood. The emitter had done its job, taking away the stiff neck and many of his minor aches, but Moira was right in that it had barely touched his side. He stood in front of his mirror and painfully pulled his shirt off. The left side of his back was one massive bruise, going from his shoulder downwards and wrapping around his ribs, complete with ugly jagged broken skin in the middle. It wasn’t actively bleeding, thanks to the emitter, but it wasn’t pleasant looking. Jesse carefully pulled on his compression tank, the pressure helping a little. He grabbed his loosest sweatshirt, but gave up on lifting his arms. He found a zip up sweatshirt at the back of his closet and pulled that on one arm at a time instead.

He made his way up to the fourth floor, the glow spilling into the hallway from the open door a friendly yellow. Jesse walked in to find Gabe bustling around, laying various pieces out on a table.

“Oh, there you are, thanks for coming up. Let’s get this on you, I pulled the sides in from last time and want to see if it’ll lay better under the vest.” He handed Jesse the same cozy sweater from last time. It would normally be delightful to put on, but Jesse was unsure about raising his arms. He unzipped the sweatshirt and set it aside, looking over to make sure Gabe was focused on the work in front of him. He pulled one arm on then the other, before taking a deep breath and raising his arms to try and get the body of the sweater down. He bit his lip, but couldn’t stop the soft sound of pain when his bruised side flexed. He couldn’t see anything inside the blackness, but gentle hands stopped him and lowered his arms, pulling the sweater off.

“Jesus, Jesse, are you hurt?” Gabe’s hands ran over him in their standard injury check, stopping when Jesse involuntarily jerked at his left side being touched. Without asking for permission, Gabe pulled up on Jesse’s tank, pulling it all the way off when he saw how high the bruise went.

“Why are you not in medical right now?” His voice had changed from Gabe to Commander Reyes, tone deliberately even so as to hide whatever emotions were behind it.

“We got back from the mission, I fell asleep on the couch. Moira fixed me up with an emitter that took care of most of it, but I’m still a little banged up.”

“A little banged up means you’re functional. This is not functional. Your report said that you had only minor injuries from the enemy.”

“This wasn’t the enemy, this was me pullin’ the building down on us and the building bein’ mad about it.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and gently pulled Jesse down off the dias, being careful to only touch his right side. He moved a few boxes, and a battered black futon was revealed. Gabe gestured to it.

“Lie down, on your stomach.” Jesse obeyed, body moving automatically in response to the commanding tone. He sighed in relief at getting off his feet, stretching his back out. A hand appeared in front of his face, holding a bottle of water and two pills.

“Take these.”

Jesse swallowed them down. “What are they?”

“Something that’ll help.” A creak as Gabe sat down next to Jesse’s head. “Stay still.” The sound of a metal cap being unscrewed, and a familiar camphor and menthol smell hit Jesse’s nostrils.

“Tiger balm?”

“Medicine has evolved but sometimes you don’t mess with what works.” Warm hands touched his side, and Jesse hissed as the fire and ice of the liniment hit his skin. He closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of his arm as Gabe gently rubbed the oily stuff in. It did begin to feel better, the ache lessening. Gabe kept well away from the broken skin, and soothingly massaged the bruises and knotted muscles. Jesse’s head felt fuzzy, and he vaguely wondered what was in the pills Gabe had given him. He opened his mouth to ask, but somehow the question didn’t make it past his lips.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jesse swam towards reality slowly. There was a soft golden glow behind his eyelids and he felt surprisingly good. There was a firm pillow beneath his cheek, and a faint abrasive noise coming from somewhere above him. He blinked his eyes open slowly. He was still in the workshop on the futon. The lights were off but there was a biotic emitter on the ground below him, pulsing its healing yellow glow silently. Jesse raised his head up a little. The pillow underneath his cheek was actually Gabe’s thigh, and the scratchy sound was him sketching in a book propped up on his other leg. He settled his head back down - he probably would be a little freaked out at waking up half-naked with his head on his commander’s leg but whatever was in those pills still had him feeling pretty good.

“Hey, there. Feeling better?” came a rumble from above him.

Jesse twisted his shoulders a bit, then his hips. Still somewhat sore, but nothing like it had been. “A lot, actually. You didn’t have to waste biotics on me.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is an experimental rechargable one, Torbjörn will probably thank you for trying it out.”

“Mmm. Dunno if it’s the field or the pills but I’m feelin’ no pain.”

A shaking of his leg pillow, as Gabe laughed quietly. “Yeah, they’re the good stuff. Certainly knocked you out.”

Jesse shifted around until he was more comfortable, head moving up closer to Gabe’s body and tucking an arm under his thigh. He felt Gabe still, above and below him.

“You know, you wouldn’t have been in any pain at all if you had just gone to medical in the first place.” A hand on his head, cradling for a moment before moving down to settle on Jesse’s now unbruised shoulder.

Jesse didn’t dignify that with a response, just shifted again until his head was in a comfortable place. He felt Gabe’s fingers flex on his shoulder.

“We, uh. We should get you to your quarters.” Gabe sounded odd, his voice somewhat deeper than usual. Jesse frowned before opening his eyes and looking up. Oh. Apparently when he was getting comfortable, he’d tucked his head back into the soft curve from Gabe’s hip down to his thigh. Jesse would feel embarrassed or awkward or something, but he was tired and high and honestly just wanted to go back to sleep. Careful hands pushed him upwards, Jesse going where he was directed like a ragdoll.

Gabe got him back into his sweatshirt, tucking the tank top into a pocket. He half walked, half supported Jesse through the halls, Jesse content to walk with his eyes nearly closed and leaning against Gabe until they stopped to make a turn or enter an elevator. A series of beeps and they were in Jesse’s quarters. He muzzily realized that Gabe had opened the door himself, with no input from Jesse. Made sense, given his commander status, but new information to him.

Between one blink and the next he was tucked into bed. Jesse’s eyes had never really opened during their journey, but they definitely were fully closed as he melted into the bed. He could hear himself starting to snore as he drifted off, and wasn’t sure if the hand on his head trailing through his hair was a dream or not

-x-x-x-x-x-

October went on, as did life. Jesse met with Gabe occasionally to try on this or that, and was fascinated to see things come together. There were two different coats that he’d been putting pieces of on for weeks, and he was interested to see how they would turn out. Their interactions were also evolving. Jesse wasn’t sure what had changed between them, but some time after the day he was injured, they were somehow...just more comfortable with each other. Gabe started to let Jesse see some of his past sketches for work, and Jesse would entertain Gabe with stories during their fittings, as opposed to their previous silence.

It was a week before Halloween, and Jesse was stretched out on the futon in the workshop while Gabe made small stitches in black leather. He shook out what he was working on, and it fell nearly to the floor in a flood of softly shining black.

“Ready for the final fitting?” he called back to Jesse. He stretched before getting up, the motions of pulling off his sweatshirt and pants now second nature. As he took the sweater from Gabe and pulled it on, a buzzing came from the desk. Jesse pulled his hair out from the turtleneck as Gabe grabbed his tablet and read what was on the screen. His heavy brows drew down into a familiar frown as he typed rapidly. Another buzz, and Gabe was obviously not happy at the message he had received.

“I have to go take care of something. Get dressed, I’ll be back in twenty.” Jesse shrugged easily, nodding an acknowledgment as Gabe pulled on his hat and the hoodie with the shoulder armor, transforming in a moment from a tailor to a soldier. The door shut behind him, leaving Jesse in the room alone for the first time ever. Tamping down on his childish instinct to start messing with everything, he continued to put the costume on.

Black sweater, black vest with brown leather straps, a matching belt over top. The brown leather pants that Gabe had indeed altered to fit - they were still sinfully tight, but flexible enough thanks to inserts that Jesse bet he could fight in them if necessary. His old knee-high black boots, repaired and shined to newness. The hat. And finally what Gabe had been working on ‘til just now - a calf-length black leather duster, with a mantle around the shoulders. It was a work of art, something that would sell for hundreds of dollars in any store. Sitting on the table was a crossbow - nonfunctional, Jesse noted with disappointment - with a leather strap that matched the other leather in the outfit. He puzzled over it until he slung it over his shoulder and across his chest.

Jesse stepped up to the now-familiar dias and turned the lights on, examining himself in the mirror. He looked fantastic, to be honest, a monster hunter that was ready to take down anything that came his way. It was so obvious, the difference between clothing made specifically for him as opposed to that which came off the shelf. He suddenly felt guilty at having made Gabe do all this work, just for his costume. He ran his hands down his sides, feeling the smooth drape of the leather and thinking about Gabe working into the night, making fine stitches. He could see the expression on his own face in the mirror, and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Jesse stepped down and sat heavily behind the desk, spinning around once in the chair. He pulled out his tablet and tried to write notes on his last mission that were due by midnight, but he couldn’t focus. Eyes moving from the tablet over the desk, he slowly reached out to the sketchbook in front of him. Glancing at the door to make sure Gabe wasn’t going to burst through at any minute, he flipped the cover open. He’d had enough friends that used art to get out their stress over the years that he knew how sacred a sketchbook was - it had not just your art but your screwups, those half finished scribbles and self-indulgent details that were never meant to see the light of day. But here, now, with Gabe far away and the book staring him in the face, Jesse couldn’t help but to enact this betrayal.

He flipped the cover open, to see Ana staring off the page at him. She wasn’t looking right at him, but off to the side, mouth open as if in conversation with someone. It was drawn with sparse, strong strokes, missing any faint, tentative lines to indicate unfamiliarity with the subject. He knew that Gabe and Ana had known each other for many years, it stood to reason that she’d be someone he drew often. He flipped through the book. There were occasional people - Jack, of course, Reinhardt and his hammer, detail shots of mechanisms that Jesse was fairly sure were of Genji’s arm and body. Mostly it was the functional things Jesse had seen from him: buildings, weapons, diagrams, places. He identified the cliffs outside of Gibraltar, the soft slopes of Switzerland visible from the lounge in Headquarters, the inside of the training rooms.

Turning a page, he recognized the headless horseman costume he had been wearing for a month and a half. This was an early sketch with elements he didn’t know - crossed belts with skull motifs and - was that a _codpiece_? Jesse was glad he hadn’t had to try that on. He turned the page to see an early version of his own outfit, something like a cross between his current costume and his usual off-duty wear yet more elaborate: a bandanna was involved, along with some kind of shoulder armor and a bandolier across his chest.

As he looked through the evolution of the design, he noticed other details change. Instead of the empty pointed oval heads of the early sketches, it started to look like Jesse. A few lines to indicate the jagged edges of his facial hair, the craggy profile of his brow and nose, individual locks of hair curling around the neck of the sweater. Not just generic representations, but expressions obviously drawn from observation - here he was smirking, here he looked annoyed. Jesse turned pages one by one, image after image of himself in a dozen variations depicted with just a few lines, until he hit the last pages. There had been several sheets covered in intricate drawings of what Jesse thought were the insides of Gabe’s shotguns, but when he opened the next page up, he closed the book as soon as he realized what he was looking at.

He knew, intellectually, that Gabe was a red-blooded man like the rest of them and presumably had...needs. And if you could draw, then why not draw your own porn? You could theoretically make exactly what you wanted. And what Gabe wanted, apparently, was a half-naked muscular man, stretched out like...like...wait.

Jesse opened the book back up. He paged through until that last page, and made himself look closer. The shaggy hair, the faint edge of a beard, a familiar scar here and there from an unfamiliar perspective...what confirmed it were the quick messy lines that indicated the Deadlock tattoo on the inner left forearm. This was Jesse. From the angle, obviously drawn that night that he came in injured and embarrassingly passed out on the futon. He had hazy memories of Gabe with his sketchbook propped on his leg, but he had assumed that the man was working on virtually anything else.

He closed the sketchbook carefully and set it back exactly where he found it, moving to sit back on the futon with his legs folded up. Jesse kept going back and forth between not wanting to think about the situation at all and thinking about it a whole lot. In detail. He shifted in his seat. No, maybe that was too much detail.

The sound of the door opening made Jesse start in his seat. Gabe walked in, anger clear in the set of his back. It seemed to leak out of him the farther he got into the room, ending in him slumping against the edge of the desk, facing Jesse.

“Everythin’ okay?”

Gabe rubbed his hand over his face, over his hair. “No. We might be called to go out on a rescue mission sometime in the next fifteen minutes, or…” His voice trailed off.

“Or?” asked Jesse quietly, already knowing the answer.

“Or we’ll go in later to retrieve the bodies.”

Jesse stood up and started to shrug the coat off. “Best get ready then.”

Gabe put out a hand to stop him. “No, if you’re here and dressed already, let me just quickly see if there’s anything to change.” Jesse paused and pulled the coat back up, moving automatically to the mirror-surrounded dias. Gabe followed.

Jesse stood, at this point used to Gabe prowling around him and tugging at the clothing. He felt...he just couldn’t get the sketchbook out of his head. Out of what was in there. Because it wasn’t just designs, wasn’t just clothes. It was Jesse. His personality shining through in just a few pencil and ink lines. Instead of starting in with his usual banter he remained quiet, watching Gabe as Gabe looked at him and his work. Finally he stopped in front of Jesse, a small smile on his face, the first Jesse had seen on him in what might have been days.

“I think it’s done. And I see you even found the crossbow.”

“It’s...god, all I did was stand here. It’s too much. Thank you.”

Gabe shrugged, looking away. “Everyone has their ways to cope. If I wasn’t doing this, I’d be making something else. I’m just happy it’ll get used and appreciated.” He met Jesse’s eyes, the smile gone from his mouth but still present in his eyes.

Jesse looked right back, from just a foot or two away. His brain was swirling with what he had seen and he couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out and grabbing a hold of the measuring tape draped around Gabe’s neck. He tugged carefully, so carefully, and wasn’t sure which one of them stepped forward.

“Tell me if I’m readin’ this wrong,” he said quietly, their eyes still on each other but now from mere inches away.

Gabe shook his head just slightly. “You’re...not, but you know why we shouldn’t.”

Fraternization. Conduct unbecoming. Working as his second in command. Working in the same small organization where you had to have absolute trust in each other.

“I know. Tell me to stop.” Jesse barely breathed.

A pause, then a press of warm chapped lips. Jesse let his eyes close as he leaned forward into the kiss, so much more easily than he would have expected. Teeth caught on his lower lip, hands slid around his waist under the coat, and it turned from gentle to filthy, Gabe expertly working his way into his mouth with tongue and teeth. Jesse moved his hands from the measuring tape upwards, tilting Gabe’s head with one hand and settling the other at the muscled curve where neck met shoulder.

Jesse found himself being walked backwards until his back met a cool, flat surface - the mirrored back wall. He tore his mouth away to gasp at the sensation, only to have Gabe’s mouth find its way to his neck, pulling down the sweater’s turtleneck to get access to the tendons that stood out. Just as Jesse’s brain was melting, both men froze as they heard twin chimes going off from their tablets. Jesse let his head thunk back against the mirror.

“Rescue mission, I presume,” Jesse muttered. Gabe pulled himself away enough to tug the tablet out of the pocket it had been tucked into, thumbing the screen active.

“Got it in one. Us, Moira, Genji, and they’re sending Angela along because of what we’ll probably find. Wheels in the air in twenty minutes.”

“Better move, then.”

“Indeed.” Gabe brushed his mouth over Jesse’s for a brief moment before pulling away. “Fold that up carefully, may as well take it with you.”

“You need me for any more fittings for your costume?”

“Nah, only thing I’ve got left to finish is the details on the shoulders and the legs, and that’s mostly metalwork that I’ll be doing in Torb’s workshop.”

Jesse felt a thrill of disappointment run through him, as he stripped off the costume and redressed himself in his sweats, realizing this was likely the last time he’d be in the workshop with Gabe. He understood completely why Gabe liked it here - it was quiet, insulated by the containers and fabric around them, with soft dimmable lights that Gabe must have installed specially. It smelled like cotton and leather and machine oil and Gabe, that last a smell that Jesse now recognized. It was somewhere that didn’t belong to anyone else.

They jogged down the stairs to quarters, separating out to go to their rooms and get into uniform. Jesse got everything on in record time, getting to the Orca with a bare minute to spare. They managed to rescue Oxton and her crew, getting everyone out with no fatalities. Jesse was a little banged up, a broken nose that Angela fixed before they even got back to HQ. He fell into bed exhausted from the day’s events, falling asleep so quickly he didn’t realize he was using the sweater Gabe had given him as a pillow.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The Halloween party was in full swing, Ana taking photos like the mother she was, everyone trading scary stories. Gabe hadn’t showed yet, still out on a mission with Moira and Genji. Jesse’d had praise from everyone on his costume but when asked where he got it he just smiled and said he had his sources.

After telling a story he was only half-interested in himself, Jesse settled back with the others as Reinhardt told some tale of a mad scientist, interspersed with dives into the punch bowl. Even as large as the man was Jesse wasn’t sure how he put it all away - just two glasses of the disturbingly green drink and he was feeling a pleasant buzz. As Reinhardt reached the climax of the tale, a heavy knocking came from the door. Reinhardt stumbled his way over, using Jesse’s head as leverage and crushing his hat down.

The door burst open to reveal a pumpkin-headed horror, laughing evilly with a well-timed crack of lightning. Reinhardt tried to flee...right into the table, completely destroying it. Gabe pulled off his costume’s disconcertingly realistic head as Ana took pictures of the chaos. Jack nudged the large knight with a toe as the others complimented Gabe’s outfit.

“Show off,” Jesse murmured, smirking into his drink when Gabe directed an amused glare at him. Jesse had seen less of Gabe’s costume completed than his own, as much of it had been fabricated in Torbjörn’s workshop. The jacket was wonderful, rising to cradle the pumpkin head perfectly. The metalwork was excellent, the vambraces and wrist pieces looking almost like jaws. The gloves, though…

“Aren’t those just your usual uniform gloves?” Jesse asked, walking over to hand Gabe a drink.

“Yep,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “And I just bolted a bunch of metal onto old tac boots that were made obsolete a few years ago, too. This is why I tell you all to never throw away your old gear, you never know when it’ll come in handy.”

The party continued on into the night, Genji and Moira showing up eventually. Genji was in a somewhat terrifying demon mask, while Moira was somehow surrounded by tentacles that Jesse didn’t want to look too closely at. One by one they drifted off, Jesse leaving with Genji as Gabe and Jack chatted in the empty room. He glanced back, wanting to catch Gabe’s eye but he was facing the wrong direction. Jesse turned away, continuing on to his quarters. He wanted nothing more than to invite Gabe back with him, to finish what they had started a week ago in the workshop, but with Jack there and Gabe fresh off a mission - who knew if he was injured but he was certainly tired - it just wasn’t the time.

Jesse stripped off the costume, hanging each piece carefully up in his closet. He showered thoroughly, trying to get rid of the sticky residue of the punch that had been splashed on him during Reinhardt’s gymnastics. He put on his usual sleep pants and crawled into bed, but his room seemed colder than usual. After deliberating for a minute and telling himself that no, it wasn’t weird, he pulled the sweater Gabe had made him back out of the closet. It was still relatively clean, having been worn for only a few hours and the vest catching the worst of the punch.

He settled back down into bed, pulling the turtleneck up around his lower face and clicking some mindless action movie onto the small television.  He was debating about turning it off and falling asleep when there was a knock on his door. Jesse rolled his eyes, knowing that it was Genji wanting to do something that could get them both in trouble. He was thirty and Genji nearly there - they couldn’t get away with the drunken idiocy they had in their younger days.

“Go to bed, Genji,” he called. “Not dealin’ with you tonight.”

A series of beeps had Jesse frowning and sitting up, clicking the TV off. The door swung open, dim light of the corridor not significantly brighter than the dim light of his quarters, but Jesse could immediately recognize the silhouette.

“It’s a little creepy that you could show up in any of our quarters at any time, you know.”

“I can always leave.”

“Now I didn’t say anythin’ about that.”

Gabe padded on bare feet into his quarters, leaning against the doorway to Jesse’s bedroom. He was wearing soft clothes obviously meant for bed, hair damp from a recent shower. He looked Jesse over, smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he took in the sweater.

“Just couldn’t let go of your monster hunter persona?”

Jesse looked at him in confusion before realizing what he meant. He reddened, and had to make a conscious effort not to hunch his shoulders. “It’s...warm.”

“I’m glad.”

Silence, as they looked at each other, the ten feet between a suddenly impossible gulf.

“You gonna stay there all night? It’s more comfortable over here.”

As quietly as he walked in, Gabe paced over to the bed. He reached a hand down, ran fingers through damp tangled hair until he cupped Jesse’s jaw. A thumb ran over his cheekbone as Jesse closed his eyes, leaning in to the touch.

“This isn’t the smartest thing we’ve done.”

“We’re in Blackwatch, Gabe. The ‘things that are good for us’ ship sailed a long time ago.” Jesse killed people yesterday. Gabe likely killed some today. But right now, maybe they could have this.

Jesse reached up and drew Gabe down to him, not stopping until their lips met. One twist of Gabe’s head and Jesse was taken over - lips teeth tongue everything tasted of Gabriel Reyes. As Gabe kissed the life out of him, a hand ran up Jesse’s side, pushing the sweater up until the options were to wiggle out of it or drown in wool. Jesse emerged from the tangle, hair sticking up in every direction. Gabe tried to hold it in, but couldn’t help the snort that came out of him at the sight.

“Hey now,” Jesse mock-frowned, and used Gabe’s distraction to push him over. Jesse’s hips were cradled between Gabe’s thighs, and he rocked forward a bit experimentally. Gabe’s eyes closed as he pushed back up harder, and Jesse leaned forward to catch his mouth with his own. They lost clothing piece by piece, as hands and mouths roamed.

Jesse was folded up on top of Gabe, ass resting on his thighs as he lazily pushed their cocks together, chest practically pressed to his own thighs as he held Gabe’s face with hands and mouth. Gabe’s hands were tight around his thighs, not enough to leave bruises but Jesse’s legs weren’t going anywhere. Jesse sat back with an exhale of breath, twisting back and forth as he cracked his back.

Gabe frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Jesse shrugged easily as he reached over to open a drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. “Consequences of gettin’ older.” He slicked a finger up and arched his back, pushing in to himself with a digit. Before he could do more than gasp Gabe pulled his hand out, an iron grip around his wrist pressing his hand to the bed. He opened the bottle one handed and messily wetted his fingers, pushing in with two and pulling a moan out of Jesse in return. Jesse tried to move, to squirm, but was caught between his hand pinned to the bed and the fingers stretching him out. He settled for leaning down and giving the most thorough kiss he could, interrupted by the occasional sounds Gabe dragged from him.

After three had moved from discomfort to not enough, Jesse twitched his hips away. “Come on, come on.” Gabe let go of his hand so he could swipe a lubed hand over his cock and guide it into Jesse, one hand firm on his hip. Jesse took a moment to adjust, before moving his knees a bit apart for leverage and beginning a slow ride up and down. He barely had to put any effort in, Gabe’s strong hands on his hips guiding him where he needed to go. Jesse’s hands were left free, and he ran them up and down Gabe’s sides. A memory of measuring tape sparked from their first night in the workshop, and he let a hand move up to rest on Gabe’s throat. Gabe’s hands slowly came to a stop, Jesse just making small rocking movements as Gabe stared up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“This okay?” he breathed, hoping for a yes, hoping that Gabe could finally bend, let him in here like he had into his shop. A long pause, before Gabe nodded. Jesse moved Gabe’s hands from his hips to their previous position on his thighs. “Pinch or slap when you need it, okay? Don’t be shy.” Gabe’s eyes narrowed but he nodded, fingers digging in just this side of too hard.

Jesse’s hips resumed their slow rhythm, and he braced himself firmly with a hand on the bed, so he wouldn’t accidentally press too hard. He stroked smoothly up and down Gabe’s neck, thick with muscle and lightly stubbled after a day without a razor. Jesse rested a thumb on his windpipe, feeling Gabe’s air catch without him doing anything at all. He pressed in gently, just a bit of pressure as his hips sped up a bit. He felt a twitch inside, Gabe obviously enjoying it more than his carefully controlled face was letting on.

“Let me know when you get close,” he whispered, Gabe’s nod brushing his beard against Jesse’s wrist. Jesse shifted his hand, pressing in with the flats of his fingers so he wouldn’t leave bruises. Gabe’s mouth was open, breathing raspily with the occasional groan making its way out. His face was turning a dull red from lack of air, features slack with pleasure. Jesse was thinking about moving faster when Gabe’s hands dug into his thighs, fingers going deep enough that Jesse’s leg twitched where he hit a nerve.

Jesse moved his hand, letting Gabe breathe freely but pressing in carefully on either side of his neck, pushing in on his carotid arteries most but not all of the distance needed to take someone down. Jesse had experimented with using his training in the bedroom, they all had, but this was different. This was Gabe falling apart beneath him with millimeters of pressure and a rotation of hips. This was Gabe’s eyes rolling up in his head as his hips bucked and he emptied himself into Jesse. Jesse let go as he felt Gabe’s orgasm, leaving his hand comfortably draped over his throat as the blood rushed back to his brain. He was so focused on Gabe that he almost missed Gabe unlocking his fingers from around Jesse’s thigh and wrapping them around Jesse’s cock, clumsy with endorphins. It only took that much to surprise an orgasm out of Jesse, his moan tinged with shock and laughter echoing on the air as he came all over Gabe’s chest.

Their bodies slowed and came to a stop, both men still breathing faster than the orgasms warranted. Jesse pulled himself off, the wet sound as they separated positively indecent. He reached down for a piece of clothing to clean themselves up with, accidentally coming up with the sweater.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” muttered Gabe from beside him. Not bothering to say that he would never use it like that, Jesse grinned as he tossed it aside, making sure to grab Gabe’s shirt instead. He gently wiped over Gabe before making a few cursory swipes at himself, knowing he’d need a shower to really get clean. Jesse lay down beside Gabe, unsurprised when he was pulled into arms that wrapped around him like a straightjacket. He reached an arm back to click the light off, before pressing a soft kiss to the side of Gabe’s face, another to the side of his throat.

“Okay?”

“Mmm.”

“You needed that.”

“I did.”

A moment as they shifted around, getting comfortable enough to fall asleep. Jesse meant to ask if this was it for them, if the stupidity was greater than the pleasure, but Gabe’s arms were warm and his lips were pressed to his forehead and sleep’s call was louder than his brain’s.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jesse woke the next morning to find the sheets cool beside him. He wasn’t surprised, but found it hurt more than he thought anyways. The sound of his door opening brought his head up, and Gabe was walking in. He was wearing a shirt that looked to be generic Overwatch issue, but the gun oil fingerprints that had never come out of the hem marked it as one of Jesse’s own. Gabe sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand over Jesse’s bare chest before pulling his arm out from under the covers. He dropped an object into Jesse’s hand. It was a thin strip of metal, a large metal square at one end with a black shiny surface taking up most of the space.

Jesse turned it over a few times, raised an eyebrow. “I give up.”

Gabe moved Jesse’s finger to press against the black square, and the strip of metal shifted, turning into the cuts of a key. “Biometric physical key. There’s a matching screen on the workshop door, hold both to open it up.”

He was giving Jesse a key to his workshop. Jesse couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face. “Why Gabe, you’re giving me a key to your house. I’m honored.”

“You certainly don’t have access to my quarters.”

Jesse kept smiling as he shook his head. “Your quarters are where you sleep. Your workshop is where you live.”

Gabe’s cheeks reddened slightly at that, but he didn’t deny it. He leaned down to kiss Jesse, something sweeter than anything they had shared previously. Gabe stood, though not before wrapping Jesse’s fingers around the bit of metal.

“Gonna shower, find some food, then was going to do some work,” he jerked his head up, indicating upstairs, “if you wanted to join me.”

Jesse nodded readily. “I’ve got some reports to work on.” Gabe nodded back, and with a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, he left. Jesse lay back down, stretching and feeling the various aches in his body, all welcome reminders of the night before. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but hey.

He had a key.


End file.
